


Agony

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gore, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinra is attacked at his apartment, and Celty is nowhere to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astroenergy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroenergy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Blind Fury](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076869) by [PendulumDeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PendulumDeath/pseuds/PendulumDeath). 



Shinra doesn't pride himself on having violent tendencies.

Not people coming for him, not any sort of revenge on patients that threaten him or his beautiful Celty. Or the ones he doesn't know—that come for him like now when he's not sure what the person is asking for, clearly male, but dripping with malice. He's supposed to know better at this rate. But he doesn't, being knocked over and one arm smashed into the door frame, bones cracking painfully and bursting through the skin in the beginning of just starting the torture. Celty's gone, away and while he prefers to protect his darling there are some things he can't predict like the fist smashing his glasses into his eyes and bleeding from his tear ducts. There are worse days, surely, in his profession.

Panting he looks through his broken glasses, shards chipping and falling through cracks to cut on his cheeks, bleeding into his eyes when he dares to struggle. Hearing the dull thud of his heavy heartbeat in his ears he almost misses the tinkling noise of pins being removed from a coffee cup. Being pinned to the ground he's not sure, one arm broken and breaching the skin when he tries to look, eyes scratching against the glass of his glasses and vision blurring painfully. The weight of the man above him, eyes wide and burning when he gleams with a smirk of dripping malice onto his face, hands being pinned when the wrists start to pitch a fit and resist the pressure of bending back.

A groan hitches in his throat, a hand tightening around the muscles when he starts to struggle, being pinned down already with useless wrists snapping like the tendons cut with a pair of scissors and he chokes a yelp, feeling the numbness of dislocation in only two pops later and bent too far to hurt any more. Struggling leaves him breathless and blue-faced, gasping and choking for air when the creep above him laughs, digging his fingers into his jugular where it pulses beneath the flesh.

Celty won't see right now and hopefully not later, in the sort of mental state in which he only thinks of her as this is happening, choked of a voice and the tinkling of sharp ends clinking against ceramic cup. From the corner of his working eye he can see the familiar design of an old coffee cup, across his head and the fingers of his assailant dipping in. There isn't a reason he knows for why he's on the floor and why his arms are aching, wrists numb and hands possibly turning blue at the joints from how painfully twisted they are in the stronger grasp of someone much larger. He can't think of Shizuo—not even Shizuo would do this to him with no reason at all, not with a voice of gravel and insanity rubbing between a metal pipe and brick wall roughness, spitting chewed asphalt in his face.

And the memories—of all of them, this is the one that comes and his eyes don't widen fast enough to see the first pinch of thumbtacks come free from the cup, knowing it's the one he uses to put up pictures of his darling Celty. Shinra doesn't think of what they're supposed to be for because his mind isn't bent so far as his wrists or the bone breaking through his hand, angry and frustrated because he can't _see_ and Celty is in the photographs and memories he has which are far too painful to spin around and weave with the woozy feeling of his throat being choked once again. If he struggles for air it happens so fast that his hands can't move and he can't struggle anymore, hearing laughter grating his ears like the feel of sharp fingernails on his skin and dragging rough patterns of _you did this._

The freak above him laughs, finding this all too funny to not bother pretending this isn't funny. Shinra keeps squirming like a pig to slaughter, not realizing how close he is to it when the hand on his throat release him, grabbing hold of something else above Shinra's head from where items have fallen off the wall."Scream, or I'll slice your throat." It's not a threat. It's a promise of pain and Shinra feel the sharp edge of a picture frame on his Adam's apple, images too blurry to see the picture but from the feel of hand-crafted wood and the size before the creep takes it off he knows that this is the picture of him and Celty in the spot he's been meaning to propose.

"Smile, doctor." Again with the tinkling of pins oh no no no this isn't supposed to happen when fingers splay over his broken wrist, pinning his right hand down to flatten the fingers and what use the thumbtacks have he doesn't know. But the dread lags in his throat, screaming in echoes from ear to ear and scratching at his skull like a rabid cat ready to escape. From the clatter of breaking glass Shinra confirms the worst with the drop of his heart that the picture frame has been tossed so carelessly aside. He can't help but let his mind race, eyes blinking open and shut from glass cuts to thumbs pressing over the lids that aren't his, grinding in the cornea and sharp pain throbbing in his optic nerves.

Fingers unable to be moved he feels the drag of a sharp end of a thumbtack across the back of his palm, drawing the kanji for what he realizes to be love and irony is the worse when being pinned to the ground. All until it scrapes too hard and he jerks, feeling blood gather and the man drives it deeper, puncturing his knuckle with the thumbtack and biting his lips doesn't keep the scream back. It's not deep enough to reach the floor but when his fingers shiver in reflex he feels the shift of metal scraping bone, blood pooling from what feels like a scratched vein and above him he hears laughter, taking on a maniacal glint of enthusiasm. Another tinkle of sharp pins and he hears the scratches against the floor when they drop, rolling around but he knows with the scrape starting over in his palm, writing love in the same sweeping motions, that it's not over.

This time more blood spills, only leaking but the pin in his first index knuckle shifts when the second thumbtack brushes by it, being pulled by fingers and jerking when it nearly pops free. Sharp pain echoes under his skin and the pin then travels up to his next knuckle, realizing the worst in the same fashion that the pin pushes down, in the middle of the joint and sliding into play like lock and key with mild jamming when he starts to scream.

The motions keep getting faster, writing love on his hand while the next one trails up, tugging at two pins in place to stab into his third knuckle, taking more force because of how thin the joint is and into consideration when the pin goes into the floor with a sharp pop. If he stifles the scream it's not enough to force his attacker to look away, grabbing more pins tinkling in the mug and remembering only Celty when he sees the cup. Broken glass and a torn picture frame above his head. All the repeating motions and he feels the urge to bite back a scream, hissing and biting through his bottom lip when he can think of Celty and how much this will upset her. Every single part.

He wonders—thumbtacks stabbing into his next knuckles and stifling the growl of agony at this point—if the broken picture soaking blood and glass is supposed to be an ill omen he's not meant to believe in. He's not one for superstition but at times (he has Celty, some things are hard to be clear on the point of logic) but the ruined photograph and his fingers being driven into the floor make him angry that he can't fight back.

"You did this," the freak continues, grinning when his handiwork finishes with Shinra's thumb into the floor, pressing the weight of his hand over the pins so Shinra gasps and his face contorts, blinking out more glass from his eyes. "You did this, you know? You did this." One more twisting jab and he lets loose a howl that contorts into a strangled scream ripping from his throat, tongue coating itself in blood with shards slipping in and the help of a hand pressing them in, piercing the skin of the palm before shoving them into Shinra's mouth to muffle the scream.

"Now, to be fair," the man continues, growling low and deep just the way Shinra feels the blood slide down into his lungs, heaving for air as the hand in his mouth chokes him off. "We have to do the other side. You know that, doctor. You know what happens when you thrash like that." From his broken arm, his pained groan-cry-shriek that enunciates just how spacious and empty his apartment is when the assailant grabs onto shards of bone, dragging and forcing the arm to be manipulated as long as his wrists can't move to lessen the ache. The tinkling of thumbtacks from the mug feels like stabs into his eardrums, feeling the blood ooze from his hand and arm while already imagining the next part of thumbtacks. It's just not fair—it's not supposed to be.

Fingers splay his left hand, a tack resting as it starts to dig into his skin for a warning call in his head, thinking of his phone and where Celty could be _now_ when he doesn't want to need her like this.

The pins pop his skin like darts and balloons, pain shooting up each finger and the scratch of wood is ominous, ringing in his ears as his blood pressure rises dangerously. There's not much he can do to keep from making a noise of complaint, lips twisting into a gasping cry muffled by his own teeth gashing into his tongue. More blood fills his mouth as a result, a thing that the attacker finds fascinating as he catches Shinra's eyes—he's never looked at him once, curiously detached as he watches Shinra struggle like an animal. Tainted blood staining the floor, popping between his knuckles as the kanji for hate scratches itself into existence on his hand, dragging lines of blood to connect the dots. Each thumbtack pressing down is a stifled breath, hitching on the uncertainty if he's going to scream at any time.

He's a doctor, it's not so horrible at all. Just focus, detach and pull away like the monster above him who laughs at his handiwork because Shinra is a masterpiece in the making of a puppet scheme, spilling blood all over the floor and the back of his head snapped against the ground, cracks shuddering in his ears over the pulse of blood. His attacker leered, eying him like a carving to be finished and one arm hooked under his leg as soon as his weight shifted, Shinra moving to kick him in the chest before the sudden shriek came from him, burning his lips as his flesh tore. In all the pain he knew at this point with his leg twisting painfully and slammed back onto the floor with even more body weight forced onto him he felt like screaming—loud enough for his darling Celty to hear, just so he could try to force the man off of him while he thrashes.

It's not a good idea but he keeps pushing, a hand coming to choke him where his hyoid bone is with a threatening smile, daring him to scream any louder and alert anyone that could possibly be nearby. His leg twisting painfully at the knee his entire femur was stretching in complaint, muscles burning when stretched to set on fire and elastic burning with the sharp smell of ugly breaths from blackened lungs. Spots dance in his eyes, black and bursts of color joining with warning signs flashing in his head, he can't possibly deal with this any more yet it keeps pushing, pushing pushing pushing to the breaking point and Shinra thinks he can't stop from at least shrieking loudly, letting out a feral howl crack his lips in half, slamming his head against the wet floor and dizzy from exertion breaking his lungs apart.

So angry frustrated furious enraged and worried—Celty shouldn't see this, where is his beloved where the ring is in his pocket somewhere or possibly skittered along the floor, he can't remember these things as he hears the first crack of his femur twisting into a spiral fracture, screaming with a hand that tastes like blood snapping over his mouth to keep the sound from ascending any higher than the squeal of a piglet to slaughter, he can't—he thinks he's going to be sick, because his leg pops and cracks with a dark noise that screeches in his veins, femoral artery in danger of being hurt and he woozily questions if he'll get to see his beloved again after this, eyes lolling about in his head.

"You're a good doctor, aren't you?" Gasping over laughs, the man finds this hysterical while watching Shinra's face contort, cheeks a glowing red and starting to become paler in color as he bleeds out, one leg twisting just a little more into his chest and his breath hitches into a whine just before the attacker releases it. "You know what I'm doing, you know why you deserve this, and it's not going to change if you cry. Go ahead, I won't mind." His smile is like a cat's and never has he thought Izaya to be this dangerous no matter his anger, rarely seeing it and wondering if human beings are truly this evil, he himself does not count as the same species of torturer when his other leg comes to be grasped in the same manner, adrenaline spiking through his hands pinned to the floor and an involuntary shiver gaping through his body. Sweeping through every nook and cranny, deep and pulsing electric fire setting him alight with pain and agony hazing his eyes—he has to keep blinking out his broken glasses, blurry vision ahead of him and never knowing what to expect from a monster that most assuredly isn't human.

The pain is imminent, he knows, and the assailant's creepy smile makes the edges contrast in Shinra's blurry vision. ""You have one chance. One. Where is Ruri?" he smiles, pulling his hand back in a taunting gentle manner to brush against Shinra's cheek with his other, portraying a false sense of security to wrap him up tightly and break his ribs—surely it's next, the comfort and security lulling him into punctured lungs and filling up with all the things he's never said.

Ruri Hijiribe—so this is the reason, he muses to himself in the quiet calm part of his mind where the rest of reality isn't there so he can think a little more clearly, dizzy and pain fading to a dull reminder. She's the reason for the torture and this must be some sort of fan of hers, a stalker by the sound of it and he can't just give her up, even if he knows where she is (and the worst part can be the best in knowing that he doesn't, but what it spells out for him...) he can't give an answer to the man above him, waiting so patiently as his fingers tighten in Shinra's hair and snap to points of breaking blood vessels or the rest of Shinra's patience in managing to hold back the pained cries that are filling his throat quickly.

"S...S-S-Stop!" Shinra gasps, choking on inhaled blood and saliva, something scratchy lodging itself in his throat and able to speak again after a successive round of wet hacks, splattering blood from where he thinks his ribs are broken. "P-Please, I-I don't know where sh-she is—!" Wrong answer as soon as the man smiles, his knee back in the grip and a hand at his throat, pressing deep when he begins to suffocate, choking noises filling his ears like a dying man's gasps in water while his heart palpitates like it's going to explode through his chest, he knows he's going to die at some point if he can't if he can't if he can't...

His leg twists, cracking noises with the groan of bone being forced to compress and twist unnaturally until it keeps pulling and pulling, waiting for the snap in his other leg that is swelling with blood and muted when he starts another scream, the pain becoming unbearable as long as his leg twists with one more jerk and the broken noise pops and echoes throughout his leg with a wet feeling, resounding back to his heart that slams into his ribs and impales itself while he wheezes for air. Both legs broken, bones coming out of his arm and the stalker lifts himself up over Shinra, smiling like the sadist he is of psychopathic origin and slamming his elbow down into Shinra's ribs, crunching them for sure if not completely before when Shinra can't breathe, feeling his organs being ripped apart from the sharp edges of bone.

Only so much time remaining, and he doesn't want to get caught—there's no fun in that. "Seems like I'll have to depart soon, doctor. You've not been very cooperative at all." His voice is cold and drops the temperature into freezing negatives from where the serrated bone edges cut into Shinra's skin and muscles, tearing him into pieces. "So as a parting gift, I noticed you had something in that lab coat of yours." Oh so he's talking about the box, his mind reminds him through the haze of nausea and choking up blood that surely isn't good when the sadist's hand reaches into his right pocket, fingers curling around the small velvet box and his face lights up in an unrecognizable emotion.

Perhaps it's not even human.

"You have a girl, then?" Grinning wider, so wide his face will split in two and reveal the black mass of monster beneath the cold look in his eyes. "Must be nice, proposing to her. The prettier the ring, the more likely she may be indebted to you," he imparts his words, babbling to himself for the purpose of his own entertainment as Shinra moans softly on the floor, his hyoid bone bruised and his throat swelling up quickly enough. As much as he'd like to do more it's time to go so he has to finish this up and he has to make one final touch to this masterpiece.

A knife in his hand, spiraling toward Shinra's chest where he cuts through the fabric in an 'x' over the doctor's heart where it thuds frantically under the skin, waiting for the next movement and Shinra can barely see, drifting in and out of consciousness not wanting to let Celty come home to the grisly sight that is his own murder in the first degree of committing wrongdoing. It's his fault, he's starting to think of everything wrong and so much more anger that sizzles beneath his skin when he's so powerless to lie as his engagement ring rests in the bloody fingers of a psychopath.

The knife slips over his flesh, dipping the crossing slashes deeper and deeper until Shinra chokes again, spattering wet blood to his side and his body burns like fire, bones melting to ooze out of his wounds like the blood spilling freely on the floor. The stalker holds the engagement ring, admiring it almost as he lets out a loose chuckle that sounds more broken and inhuman like a beast imitating something meant to be human—the sound rakes his spine into shuddering columns of bones threatening to collapse when the simple strings holding him together snap apart, cut one by one until he can no longer try to keep himself alive.

"But if you won't let me have my own happiness," he speaks up, speaking in a roundabout way crossing over his tongue and his eyes are empty soulless things that don't have any room except for Ruri, and she's gone gone gone. "Then I simply can't let you have your own. You have to express it, y'know, from the _heart._ " Ring in his fingers, tilting down and the gem scrapes against the surface of wet flesh, eying Shinra and no trace of remorse to be found, no reason to laugh much longer on the fool who is cowardly in his eyes.

He drives the ring into Shinra's flesh, just above his beating heart and isn't satisfied until he hears some more snapping and the ring is fully lodged in Shinra's chest—right where it belongs, hearing a wet gurgle of sound spewing from the good doctor and admires his handiwork, reminding himself not to wait a second longer because his Ruri is waiting and if this doctor wants happiness—he'll never have it. Never ever until he can get his Ruri, and even then he can suffer with the bad decisions he's made and if the girl still loves him. She won't need to, no one needs to love a monster stuffed with his own amorous love.

He takes one final look, standing with an impish grin, and disappears the same way he came with a resounding chuckle fracturing the silence setting in. Lying on the ground Shinra doesn't move, doesn't breathe except for the gasping noise that filters through his heavy lungs, eyelids demanding to close when he can see blurs of the apartment from the frames of his lids.

It's too bad he can't stay awake—the love for Celty forces him to try, right? So it's the same love that asks in a silent plea for her to still love him and only him, as selfish as he doesn't care to be.

But for now, his eyes slide shut with some promise that he can't let Celty be alone after something so low as this to force him down, make him helpless and in agony. And then he can propose—maybe some other time because it's harder to breathe and Celty wouldn't like for Shinra to be any shorter, especially if he can't feel his legs.

Moments later, his heart stops beating in his chest.

It never stops for Celty, though.

**Author's Note:**

> I love you too, astro dear. And I know you love Shinra, but I just couldn't sit well with that. And since Mama Shizuwan gave me permission, I decided to dedicate my love to you in the only way I know how. Enjoy, dearest. 
> 
> Also on Fanfiction.net: [ Here.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11130333/1/Agony)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I insist you go read PendulumDeath's [Blind Fury](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1076869/chapters/2163076).
> 
> ꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡


End file.
